


This Is Not A Love Story

by Desdemona



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Minor Violence, Non-Canon Relationship, Original Character(s), Parenthood, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5648899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdemona/pseuds/Desdemona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wouldn't let him intimidate her. Wouldn't let him cow her. Bonnie brought her chin up and met his gaze dead on. She'd stopped being scared of things that were bigger and faster a long time ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Not A Love Story

**Author's Note:**

> So, a few things. This was supposed to be a much longer story that I had started a long time ago but I think it ended at a good point to be a one-shot. I'm also genuinely sorry it took so long for me to put up another Bonnie x Stefan story-shaped thing. There's been like a small group on Tumblr that's been waiting patiently and you're all very nice so I hope this makes up for the wait. Also, don't be fooled by the "Parenthood" tag. I tag only what's present in the story. Nothing is fluffy with me.
> 
> And the biggest thing: I'm not watching the show at all anymore. I just went back to the timeline I'd begun to create and stuck with it which was based on how the characters were from many seasons ago. Hope it's still enjoyable for those who'd waited.
> 
> Happy reading. I'll catch any errors soon.

His timing was always terrible, as if he waited for just that moment when her anger was at it's peak before swooping in to drive her insane. Or maybe it was his brother summoning him in as back up. Which was ludicrous because Damon Salvatore was the last man on earth, living or dead, who needed help in being the biggest jerk in the land.

Yet still, like clockwork it seemed, as soon as Damon had Bonnie practically seeing red and fighting not to murder him ten times over, Stefan would arrive to lean insolently in their doorway and smile at them with a twisted gleam in his eye.

He had it now as he idly wandered through the living room, studying the pictures on the mantle and eying the Christmas tree with it's plethora of bright, wrapped gifts with barely restrained mirth. Damon was propped in the archway to the hall, a highball glass tinted brown with liquor held in the loose circle of his fingers. Bonnie had settled into the corner of the couch, elbow on the armrest and fingers fisted beneath her chin.

The fight they'd been having several seconds before doorbell buzzed had left the air thick with tension and she wanted nothing more than to plead a headache and run for it. She had no energy for both brothers tonight. But with Damon blocking the way out, she was effectively cornered unless she wanted to get magical on him and in her current state, it was entirely possible that she'd murder him.

She didn't have the time to deal with resurrection spells either. Not these days. Playing Sabrina the Teenage Witch had lost it's fun years and years ago, if it had ever been fun in the first place. Now she pressed a hand to her stomach, the material of her Christmas sweater – a gift from Damon – scratchy under her palm, and waited for the first blow to land.

Stefan made them wait though. Dressed in black from his button up to his boots, the only thing light about him was that defiantly tall hair. He was an otherwise dark, pacing blot amidst the red and green decorated living room. The fire was even snapping merrily. It was a postcard almost.

Almost.

Stefan finally stopped at the tree tucked catty corner between the large picture window and the fireplace and idly flicked a glossy red ornament. “So, is my present down there?” he asked without turning around.

“Yes,” she said as neutrally as she could. “It's down there with the other gifts.”

Stefan crouched as she spoke, rummaging through the pile of presents until he found what he was looking for. It wasn't hard. It was one of the largest gifts under the tree and the only one that really made Bonnie uncomfortable to see.

“Ben's excited,” Damon said coolly. “Not everyday that he gets something from his mysterious uncle.”

Stefan glanced at them finally and that vaguely maniac gleam was there clear as day. “What's the matter, Damon? Miss being the deep and dark one? Fatherhood making you weak?”

The ice in Damon's glass clinked gently and without looking, Bonnie knew he was drinking it in that leisurely infuriating way he did when he was getting ready to deliver a gut-wrenching blow. She glanced up when he leaned against the couch, his shadow falling over her and casting her in darkness.

“What's the matter, Stefan?” Damon said, adopting Stefan's sly tone. “Feeling useless without a girl to mope over? Need a reason to feel suicidal?”

Stefan's eyes darkened. “I've got one.”

The fact that she didn't squirm or throw up was a serious accomplishment.

“Clearly.” Bonnie looked up in time to see Damon's mouth stretch into a cruel smile. “Don't be such a cliché, little brother. _Everyone_ wants to die during the holidays.”

The air went hot as if the fire was pumping out to much heat but this hotness had nothing to do with nature's fire and everything to do with long burning fury and memories. She didn't flinch even when she felt Stefan's gaze swing her way and heard the glass in Damon's hand whine from pressure.

“Don't break another glass in this house, Damon,” she said as she got to her feet. “I will not be cleaning it, and if my son cuts his foot open, so help me God, I will drive a stake through your heart.”

Then she walked out, head high, all the way upstairs to her bedroom bathroom. Only there did she finally let the shaking happen.

If she threw up, that was between her and the rushing toilet water.

 

* * *

 

Stefan was gone when she eventually came back down. Damon stood by the window, staring out into the night. His glass was on the coffee table, carefully placed on a coaster. There were clear cracks in it like he'd gotten pushed pretty hard when she'd left the room; a fact that would have made her feel bad but she knew Damon. She knew his brother.

They'd probably torn several strips off each other. It was the Salvatore family way. Even she did it and she wasn't a Salvatore. Would never be one.

But her son was.

“He's gonna be back in the morning.” Damon didn't turn as he laid out what they both knew. “He's probably gonna be here right up until New Years.”

Bonnie had made it all the way to the couch and now she braced herself against the back of it, her nails digging tiny moons into the fabric. “I'm not dealing with him until the new year, Damon.”

“You say that like I want him here.” He turned idly, hands in his pockets. He still wore his jeans  tight, still draped his lean body in tight button ups. He was and would forever be a twenty-something year old man.

A beautiful man but still a man. Well. A man-shaped beast.

“I didn't invite him,” she murmured.

“You taunted him by having Ben's birthday out in public.”

She dug her nails in deep. “I'm not going to seclude my child because your brother can't let go of the past.”

“Our child,” Damon said gently.

“My child,” Bonnie said in a soft whisper. “Don't let this cozy scene confuse you. I don't care if your blood is in him too. That's my son.”

“So why am I here then, Bon?” Damon moved towards at her at a leisurely pace, his steps measured and dead silent. “Why are you wearing my sweater? Why am I sharing your bed? Tell me, sweet little spawn of hell, why am I here playing Leave It to Beaver with you?”

Bonnie pulled the sweater off without a second's hesitation. “This? This is because my son saw his father give his mother this. I wore it for him. Don't ever think you're anything else to me. You're here because you won't leave. I told you what I wanted. I've never wavered from that. Have you?”

“Oh yes, yes, I remember now.” Damon was at the other side of the couch. She briefly thought about running but he'd catch her pathetically quickly and she didn't want this to get physical.

Not if it didn't have to.

“You wanted a baby.” His fingers picked at a piece of something on the couch, invisible to all but his eyes. “You wanted to, how did you put it? Be normal? Have a boyfriend, a baby, a grad night. No more monsters, isn't that what you said?” His eyes took on a nasty, familiar gleam.

Her heart began a slow, heavy thump. “Don't.”

“Don't what? Remind you what you asked? What you begged?”

She could hear the words coming back to her, could hear a young, world-weary voice, faintly slurring but not slurred enough. Not drunk enough to not know what she was doing.

“Didn't you get what you want, Bonnie?” Damon crept closer and closer, his words coming softer and softer. “Didn't you?”

She wouldn't let him intimidate her. Wouldn't let him cow her. Bonnie brought her chin up and met his gaze dead on. She'd stopped being scared of things that were bigger and faster a long time ago.

“What's your point, Salvatore?”

“Just that, sweetheart.” He put a little speed on and captured her chin. “I'm the Salvatore you got. And I'm here to stay.”

 

* * *

 

Once upon a time, she believed in doing the right thing. She believed in saving the innocent and destroying evil. And when she learned she had the ability to fight that evil, she threw herself into it with all the power that she could. She fought with everything in her, learned spells that stained her eyelids at night, and she'd bled.

God, how she'd bled.

So when the battle was over and the land had been left scorched but saved, she'd forgotten how to do anything that wasn't war. She'd become a warrior and forgotten how to be a teenager. Her friends had become different people. Embittered by the supernatural violence that had taken over their daily lives, they'd hardened as they grew into adults. High school was a thing of the past.

Childhood had died.

She'd gone into hibernation. Leaving had never been an option though she'd thought about it. Her father had even pleaded with her right up until the day she'd finally walked away from him, cutting him off but really cutting him out before something happened to him.

She'd gone deep. Found an apartment, broke her phone, and bought a hot plate. If asked, Bonnie couldn't explain what she'd been doing except for trying to survive. She'd read once, a long time ago it seemed, about how veterans suffered as they tried to reassemble back into society. The nightmares, the PTSD, the disconnect from reality. Except she'd also had the total and complete knowledge that life was irrevocably changed because now she knew what the monsters really looked like and they could pass for human.

She'd watched a lot of movies. She'd bonded with the TV and spent hours huddled in a sleeping bag with only that blue glow as company.

Months had passed. No one tried to find her. Or maybe they did. She'd warded the apartment pretty solidly and wiped the manager's memory so that the woman never remembered they'd even met.

She'd ordered a lot of pizza.

And then, one day, exactly a year after she'd gone into seclusion, Bonnie woke up and knew she couldn't stare at the apartment walls any longer.

She stepped outside and promptly ran into a Salvatore.

The trouble that followed? Typical.

Story of her life.

 

* * *

 

Stefan was lounging in her living room when she came home the next day, juggling groceries and a chattering six year old. Her son immediately launched himself into Stefan's arms, squealing excitedly.

“Uncle Stefan!” rang through the room and Bonnie held back a cringe as Stefan swooped the sturdy little body up and danced around the room with Ben, his face softening into a genuine grin of delight.

Ben was an interesting mix of both her and Damon, with his eyes and her hair and a warm golden tan that seemed to be nature's only answer for his paleness and her darker tone. But there were times when her son reminded her that he wasn't just a normal little boy. Like now, he smiled really wide and the ever present baby fangs flashed.

Some people had sharpened canines. Others went out and had their canines sharpened. Ben's fangs were deadly sharp and very much not man-made. Breast-feeding had been out of the picture fast. He used them instinctively too, often biting into meat and tearing with a particular fury that often had Damon making jokes about whether or not he wasn't actually a wolf baby.

Bonnie could never laugh. Wolves meant Klaus and that was not a place she liked to go. Usually though, she just reminded herself that the important thing to note was that the boy was still eating solid food. She wasn't sure when the bloodthirst would arise.

There was no precedence for a vampire baby. They weren't supposed to be possible unless you bit an infant but then they'd never age, trapped forever in a squalling infant form.

Ben was an entity all his own and Bonnie wouldn't trade him for the world.

“Ben,” she said after a few minutes of letting Ben play with Stefan. “C'mon, kiddo. How about you take your coat and boots off and I'll make you something to eat?”

“Okay, Mommy.” Her son looked down from where Stefan had him suspended in the hair and smiled at her, flashing fang. “But can I show Uncle Stefan my new game?”

“After you eat.” Bonnie kept her voice firm. “Put him down, Stefan.”

“Okay, Mommy,” Stefan mimicked, smiling at his nephew as he set the boy down on his feet. “You heard her, little guy. Get going.”

Ben unzipped his hefty jacket, walking toward the hall closet to put it away as he did it. Bonnie was quick to follow, unwilling to be alone with Stefan even for a moment. Her son switched topics as he put his things away, going on about school adventures and friends, unaware of how silent his mother had become as she followed him, detouring into the kitchen with the groceries. Right behind her was Stefan, his presence a long line of heat at her back.

He'd fed recently. It was the only reason he'd be giving off any warmth. Bonnie did her best to not think about who was possibly walking around with a few ounces missing from their bloodstream.

Or maybe not walking around at all.

Stefan made the appropriate noises to Ben's story and soon both males were seated at the dining table parked at the edge of kitchen next to the sliding back door. The room was large and open, with plenty of natural light coming in from the windows, emphasizing the space.

And yet she still felt like the walls were closing in because she could feel his gaze on her the whole time. Bonnie put away the groceries and made Ben a sandwich in record time before excusing herself as fast as she could.

Ben's little voice halted her at the bottom of the stairs. “Mommy? Can I show Uncle Stefan my game?”

“Yes, baby, that's fine.” She was proud of how her voice didn't shake. “Put your plate in the sink when you're done and wash your hands before you do though.”

She went up the stairs as calmly as she could, walked down the hall, and almost made it to her bedroom. As soon as she touched the doorknob, she heard the floorboard creak.

“You left him alone down there,” Bonnie told the door.

“Told him I had to ask Mommy something.” Stefan's voice was very soft and suddenly very, very close to her ear. “Can I ask Mommy something?”

Bonnie swallowed hard, fingers tightening on the doorknob. “Don't call me that.”

“Why not? He does.”

“Damon,” she said as she turned slowly and answering what Stefan was really saying. “Has never called me mommy.”

“Practically calls you wife though, doesn't he?” Stefan's gaze wasn't cruel but she would've preferred it over the heat filling up his gaze. “Buys you clothes, sleeps with you, touches you, fights with you. Like a husband.”

Her hand burned after the slap. Then burned hotter as dormant magic rushed into her fingers, reminding her that she was not weak. “Call him that again and the next hit won't be with my hand.”

Eyes hot, Stefan lifted his hands slowly in the universal gesture of surrender then braced them against the door on either side of her head, crowding her against the wood. “You fight him being called your husband but not the fact that he sleeps with you?”

“Once. He touched me once. To make my son.”

“Because I wouldn't.” Stefan shook his head. “You couldn't wait.”

“I didn't want either one of you to do it,” she hissed. “I didn't want to have anything to do with you and your messed up family.”

But she'd wanted to give her child a fighting chance in this insane life that she couldn't seem to escape, in this town that seemed to have her firmly chained to it no matter how hard she tried to free herself. Magic should have been enough. Having a witch's genes should have been enough.

Yet look at what just being a witch had gotten her.

Nothing but pain. Not that the vampires had it any better but she'd do anything to give her son the advantage.

“Yet here you are. Up to your pretty neck in us.”

She closed her eyes as he leaned in, murmuring the words against her cheek. His lips were sinfully soft and gentle, tempting her to turn her head. Tempting her to do many things.

“Ask your question, Stefan.”

He leaned back and that twisted gleam was back in his eyes. “Wanna make another one with the right brother this time?”

It was until his back slammed against the wall across from her that Bonnie even realized she'd used magic at all. Horror still raced through her and shame at the thrill that had sprung to life at the idea of finishing what they'd started a long time ago. “Are you out of your mind?”

He laughed and blood spilled from his mouth. His lips were stained with it and she realized he'd bitten his lip, hard enough to break the skin. His eyes were vampire dark but the veins hadn't popped out, not yet. He'd gained a remarkable amount of control over the years.

“I'm just asking what we're both thinking.” Stefan licked the blood as the wound healed in moments. “You fight more and more each year. How long do you think Ben is going remain unaware? Kids aren't dumb.”

“And having another one with you would solve that problem?”

“I know how to stop a fight,” he said and shot forward, grabbing her around the waist and picking her up. He spun them in a blur of frightening speed and pressed her against the wall, his hips wedging her thighs open.

Bonnie fought a groan, fingers scrambling for purchase on his shirt as he rocked against her, his face buried against her neck.

“This, Bonnie, this stops a fight,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the thin skin of her throat. “This stops a fight and makes a baby. This can make you happy. I know he doesn't. Let me do it.”

She whimpered, hungry in a way she hadn't been in a long, long time. His shoulders were solid under her grasp and she'd wrapped her legs around him without realizing it, ankles digging his back to bring him in closer.

God, it'd been so long since she'd had hands on her that she _wanted_ on her _._ Bonnie hadn't been lying. She'd let Damon touch her only the one time she'd needed to make Ben. Afterward, she'd forbidden him to ever do it again. He'd tried though and sometimes, she'd come close to weakening. He was devastatingly attractive and knew how to use his body.

But whenever she'd been tempted to give in, she remembered who he was. Remembered why she'd come to him in the first place. Remembered everything he'd done.

Remembered Elena.

Bonnie had never wanted to be Elena for anyone and knew Damon would turn her into Elena if he could. She might be stuck with him because of whatever paternal urge that had awakened in him,  and she could be fair and say that he loved Ben the way he didn't seem capable of loving anything or anyone else, but they wouldn't be anything else.

No matter what Damon wanted.

As soon as that thought washed over, the delirium Stefan had effortlessly swept her into died a harsh death. Bonnie dropped her legs and started to push him away when he ground hard against her. Bonnie almost lost it, almost gave in and, horrified by that, she shoved with some magic this time.

Stefan stumbled back, panting. His eyes were wide and heavy and to her embarrassment, she couldn't keep from looking down as he moved his hand to his zipper and adjusted. The denim was strained with the thickness of him.

Bonnie looked away, shaking as she tried to fix her hair. “I'm going to check on Ben. You...handle that. It needs to go away before you go back to him.”

His voice was as strained as his jeans when he called her name. “I'm not saying no this time.”

Bonnie glanced back at him, meeting his gaze. “But I am.”

“Because of Damon?” His eyebrows shot up high. “So devoted suddenly.”

Bonnie sighed. “Devoted, yes. To Damon, no.”

She left him quickly after that, ostensibly to let him think about it. But in reality to escape how close she'd come to falling back into bad habits.

Like letting Stefan push her around, like giving into his needs.

Like forgetting how to say no to him.

Never again.

 

 

 

 


End file.
